


Destiny's Whore

by glacis



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark makes his choice and Lex rolls with the it. Fate is rewritten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny's Whore

Destiny’s Whore by glacis.  Spoilers for Skinwalker.

 

Staring at the octagonal hole in the center of the cave painting, Lex wondered idly if there were some sort of magnetic properties in the rock.  He certainly couldn’t seem to stay away.  In the month since LexCorp purchased title to the land, he’d found himself walking through the caves, staring at the surreal images all around him, three or four times a week.

The legend of Naman clung to his subconscious mind, weaving through his dreams, bringing the scenes flowing over the rocks to life whenever he closed his eyes.  If he believed in such nonsense he’d think he was being haunted.  Only in the dreams, of course, it was no coarse, two-dimensional space-creature who lifted ten men at once and shot streams of fire from his eyes.  It was Clark.

More than once, Lex woke screaming into his pillow, caught between coming in the sheets and rolling in them to put out the phantom fire eating at his skin.  He’d never been one to shy away from self-analysis, knowing that knowledge was power and he had to command himself before he could command the world … but such dreams tempted him to bury his subconscious as deeply as possible.

He wasn’t used to scaring himself.  He didn’t like the feeling.

Playing the flashlight beam over the concentric circles swirling over an outcropping of rock, his eyes followed the lines to the figure of a woman.  A bracelet encircled her wrist.  Her head was tilted back and she appeared to be pleading or crying out to a two-headed male figure.  One head was blue, with an eye painted in the center of its face that seemed to pull the onlooker in to some other reality.  The other was the red of freshly-spilled blood, lips pulled back to show fearsome teeth.  The heads stared at one another, as if poised on the brink of attack or embrace.  He couldn’t tell which.

“Compelling, aren’t they?”

Joseph Willowbrook’s voice coming out of nowhere startled Lex so badly he almost dropped the flashlight.  Controlling his instinctive jump, he peered at the old man over his shoulder.

“Very,” he admitted.  “From the moment Clark showed them to me I knew they had to be preserved.”

Black eyes pierced him, weighing him.  Lex wondered, fleetingly, what the shaman saw, when he looked at Lex’s soul.  After a long moment, the eyes finally moved away, sweeping over the paintings in much the same way Lex had moments earlier.

“Clark is quite a unique young man, isn’t he,” Joseph commented, glancing at Lex out of the corner of his eye.  It wasn’t a question.

Considering and rejecting responses ranging from sarcastic commentary on secrets to multiple meanings of unique, Lex was slow to answer.  Staring back up at the two-headed figure, he shrugged.  Before he could say anything, the ground suddenly shook beneath his feet.

He reached out to steady Joseph.  The old man yelled something in his native tongue, hands stretching toward the wall.  Lex ducked instinctively as a section of wall sheared off.  The slabs of red rock barely missed his head, glancing off his shoulder and knocking him to the ground.  His right arm took the brunt of the fall, rubble burying him from elbow past fingertips.

Coughing on the dust filling the air, Lex choked as a searing pain went through his forearm.  He’d broken bones before; it hadn’t hurt nearly so badly.  It felt as if his skin was on fire, and he swore he could see a dim green light glowing through the broken chunks of rock covering his arm.

Lovely.  Just what he needed in his life.  More meteorite-induced weirdness.  He growled under his breath.  Wriggled to throw off the worst of the debris littering his clothes.  Yanked at his arm.

Passed out as the burning pain spiked, clear through to the bone, up his arm, down his spine, and into his chest.

The last thing he saw before the world went black was Joseph Willowbrook’s face, eyes wide, words Lex couldn’t understand pouring from his mouth, skin glowing green in the shadows of the cave.

 

Joseph had seen many things in his long life, many things that could only be explained by walking the path of the spirit unknown by most men.

He’d never seen legend rewritten before his eyes.

As the rock walls shook, the paintings shifted, lines blurring and blending as if moved by a master’s hand.  An entire section separated from the wall and fell, pinning young Luthor to the ground.  The man fought, but was unable to escape.  Then he gave a strangled scream as his body arched against the dirt and he fainted.

Joseph was afraid to touch the rock trapping Luthor’s hand.  He’d only seen the like in a few of his spirit wanderings, in the far lands, beyond the earth.  A glow like moss on the rocks in the crater lake pulsed around Luthor’s arm, tendrils spreading over his body to converge upon the center of his chest.  Pale eyes blinked up at him, then closed, as the green fire found its home in Luthor’s heart.

At the moment the spirit flames stopped moving, the rocks tumbled over Luthor’s arm stopped glowing.  Swallowing with a dry throat, prayers for strength and protection still spilling from his lips, Joseph took his courage in his hands and knelt beside the fallen man.  The rocks moved easily under his hands, as if they knew their task was complete.

By the time he’d shifted the worst of the fall off Luthor’s arm, the young man was coming around again.  Dazed light eyes stared up at him.  Joseph had no idea what to say, so he said nothing, brushing the last of the dirt and pebbles off Luthor’s torn sweater sleeve.

“Ouch,” Luthor said weakly, a thread of humor under his voice.

Joseph shot him a look, reassured by what he saw.  Then he glanced over at the pile of broken rock that used to be part of a cave painting.  A woman’s face, radiating peace and acceptance, stared back.  The fragment of rock was broken along the line of the woman’s body, and the outstretched arm wearing the ancient token no longer existed.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, placing a steadying hand between Luthor’s shoulder blades as the younger man pulled himself to his feet.

“Yes, thank you, I’m fine.  I heal rapidly.”

The words sounded automatic, and a little distracted.

“Are you sure nothing’s broken?  That was quite a –“

Before he could finish the sentence Luthor gave a most undignified yelp.  Joseph felt his eyebrows go up as he watched Luthor scrabble at his sleeve.

“What the hell?” Luthor muttered, reaching down to pick up his flashlight then shining the light on his arm.

Joseph stepped forward and peered at the bloodied arm as well.  “Looks like you’re going to have some nasty bruising there.”

“I don’t …”  The words trailed off as Luthor wiped the arm hastily against his pant leg, smearing the blood away to look at the reddened skin.

“Maybe a scar,” Joseph continued, distracted himself by the thin purple lines striping across the smooth white skin under all the dirt.

“I don’t scar,” Luthor murmured.  Joseph looked away from the mark to see Luthor, staring down at his own arm as if he’d never seen it.

“Ever?”  Come to think on it, there was something odd about young Luthor.  Joseph had felt it the first time they’d met.  Clark had been more right than he knew when he’d said not all Luthors were the same; there was a whiff of otherness about Lex that was nowhere in evidence with Lionel.

Luthor clenched his fist, watching the thin lines move as his muscles tightened and released.  “It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” he answered.

Somehow, Joseph had a feeling it wouldn’t.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, see if you need any patching up.”  Ignoring Luthor’s half-hearted protests, he led the young man back out through the caves.  As they left, Joseph glanced once more over his shoulder at the painting on the rock.

The figures appeared to be moving.

He decided to wait and watch, and see what would become of destiny changed.

 

The rampant weirdness that was Clark’s life in Smallville continued as usual.  Dead people who weren’t who they were supposed to be returned to life and caused havoc.  Cows needed to be milked and math problems needed to be solved and essays needed to be written.  In the course of natural events, as defined by the usual unnatural life he led, the ache of losing Kyla before he’d ever really had her began to fade.

Lana needed support, and he gave it; Pete needed help, and he gave it; Chloe needed love, and he couldn’t give it, so he tried to be the best friend he could and hoped it would be enough.  His Mom and Dad continued to argue and work and worry, so he made himself as useful as possible and kept out of the way when he could.  It didn’t leave a lot of time for Lex.

Which was probably why he had the overwhelming compulsion late one afternoon to go see Lex.  Clark missed him.  That had to be it.  It wasn’t like Lex was in trouble, or in danger.  It was a different kind of urgency Clark felt, and it had been building since the previous morning.  When he couldn’t stand it any more, Clark did something he hadn’t done since he’d been wearing red meteor rock, and skipped his classes to go see his friend.

He found Lex in his office, after ducking Lionel in the hall.  He was still a little leery of Lex’s Dad after stealing the man’s glasses and being so rude to him.  Good thing Lionel didn’t hold a grudge.  Or if he did, and going by the way Lex talked about him it was a good bet he would, he didn’t take it out on Clark.  Or Clark’s Mom.  All to the good.

Peering around the door, he watched Lex, who didn’t know he was being watched.  He was too busy staring down at his arm with a fascinated expression on his face.

“You okay, Lex?” Clark asked, then had to grin as Lex jumped about a foot in his chair.

“Clark!  Come in,” Lex invited.

Clark stared at Lex as he walked across the room and plopped into a chair beside the desk.  “You look a little freaked.”

The hint of his usual smirk crossed Lex’s lips, but he still looked spooked.  “I’m fine,” he lied, and Clark knew he was lying.

“What happened?” he prodded.  If Lex was upset, it was up to Clark to dig it out of him.  Otherwise Lex would just brood, and that couldn’t be good for him.

Lex stared over at him for a second, then went back to staring at his arm.  Clark waited.

Waited some more.

What felt like half an hour later, he sighed.  Gustily.  Lex jumped again.

“Am I boring you, Clark?” he asked, with that little laugh in his voice that told Clark he was teasing.

“Never, but I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.”

Lex gave him a look of honest confusion.  “What question?”

With exaggerated care, Clark asked again, “What happened?”  He fixed Lex with his brightest, most persistent ‘I’m not going to stop asking until you tell me so you might as well save yourself the pain and spill it all right now’ look.  He’d learned it from Chloe.  It never worked as well when Clark did it, but Lex caved, so for once it was good enough.

“I don’t scar,” he said out of nowhere, and Clark cocked his head, wondering where Lex was going with this.  “I was down in the cave yesterday looking at the paintings, and Joseph Willowbrook came along –“

“Oh, no, you didn’t get into a fight with him, did you?” Clark broke in, unable to stop himself.

Lex rolled his eyes.  Clark recognized the expression and grinned.  Lex must have been hanging out with Martha, because that was the exact same expression she got when Clark did something stupid.  She’d probably been using it a lot around Lionel.

“No, Clark, we didn’t get into a fight,” Lex said slowly, like he was talking to a toddler.  Clark didn’t mind.  At least he was talking.

“So what happened?” he prompted.

“There was a minor temblor, and part of the cave wall collapsed.”

Clark sat bolt upright, unconsciously leaning toward Lex.  “Are you all right?  Is Mr. Willowbrook okay?”

Lex sighed, looked like he fought the urge to roll his eyes again, and said patiently, “Yes, we’re both fine.  It’s just …”  He stared down at his arm again.  “I got caught by some of the rocks, and bruised up a little.  Normally all signs of damage would have been gone by this morning.”

Clark nearly interrupted again, the stray thought that Lex healed amazingly fast making him wonder if it had anything to do with getting caught in the meteor shower, but Lex was still talking, so he bit his tongue and kept quiet.

“But it looks as if I have a scar out of the experience.  Which is odd, because I don’t scar.”

Ah!  Finally, the circular path wound back to its beginning.  Clark shook his head at the logic loops Lex brought to every conversation, and hopped up from his chair to take a look at Lex’s arm.

When he saw the pattern the thin lines made, his knees went weak.  He caught the edge of the desk to stay upright.  Hearing the glass creak under his grip, he consciously eased up so he didn’t shatter it.  He could feel Lex staring at him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the strange scar.

“What is it, Clark?” Lex asked very softly.

Clark had to swallow twice before he had enough spit in his mouth to get his tongue to work.  “Looks like … it looks like a bracelet Kyla wore.”

A bracelet he had wrapped in a worn cotton bandana, stuck in his sock drawer back at the farm.  And it did look like it, thin lines radiating out from a diamond shape in the middle, simple and elegant and completely bizarre etched in dark purple on the skin of Lex’s forearm.

It was only when Lex made a strange gargling noise that Clark realized he was stroking his fingertips over and over the scar.  He pulled his hand away as if it burned and looked at Lex’s face.

He’d never seen Lex turn that shade of pink, even after he’d been hanging upside down being tasered for hours.  Lex’s eyes were huge, and he kept licking his lips.  Clark couldn’t look away.

“Do you _really_ believe in destiny, Lex?” Clark asked, a variation on the same question he’d been asking since the day Lex knocked him off the bridge.  The day he’d saved Lex’s life and his own had changed in ways he still couldn’t quite believe.

“Yes,” Lex said simply.  His breathing steadied out and the flush died down in his cheeks, but his eyes glittered in a way Clark didn’t think he’d ever seen before.

“Do you think we’re compelled to it?  Do we have any choice?”

Lex took a deep breath, his left hand falling over the new scar on his right forearm and squeezing until his knuckles went white.  “I’ve fought my destiny since I was old enough to understand I had one, Clark.  I’ll never be destiny’s whore, content to roll over and take what I’m given.  I believe we have as much control over our destiny as we can take, and the extent of control we have is measured only by the strength of our will.”

Oh.  Clark looked at the hand kneading the scar, then up at Lex’s face, gaze roving until it caught on Lex’s mouth.  It was Clark’s turn to lick his lips.

“So you think our choices matter?”

“The choices we make are all that matter,” Lex told him firmly.

“Okay,” Clark agreed, then leaned down, cupped the back of Lex’s skull in his hand, and kissed him.

He could feel the shock move through Lex, then a moment of relaxation into the kiss before Lex began to struggle.  That moment gave Clark hope.  He reluctantly pulled back, breaking the kiss but keeping his hold on Lex.  Huge gray-blue eyes stared up at him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Lex asked abruptly.  It might have made more of an impact if it hadn’t been so breathy.

Although from the way Clark’s cock jumped at the sound of Lex’s voice, maybe it wouldn’t have.

“Nope,” he answered, almost whispering.  “Just making a choice.”  He leaned in for another kiss, and when Lex tried to turn his head, Clark wouldn’t let him.  The soft mouth tried to harden, tried to keep him out, but he tugged gently at Lex’s upper lip until Lex let him inside.

He didn’t know how he did it.  He knew he hadn’t used super speed because the desk was still intact, but somehow Clark had Lex out of his chair and into his arms.  Still kissing him.

Eventually, maybe because he was dizzy from lack of oxygen, Lex stopped fighting Clark and started kissing him back.  Clark made an muffled sound that would have been a battle cry of ‘Yes!’ if his mouth hadn’t been full of Lex’s tongue.

From there, thankfully, Clark’s enthusiasm was overtaken by Lex’s experience.  While Clark knew in theory what he wanted to do, he was a complete novice when it came to actually doing it.  Bare skin under his hands was incredible.  The odd burn of the new scar made his mouth tingle when he licked it.  Lex bucked underneath him as Clark stripped him off and licked him everywhere he could reach.

Clark always had been a quick study.

It was a bit of a stretch of Clark’s patience to wait until Lex stripped him in turn, instead of super-speeding out of his clothes and getting on with it.  But that secret was for another day.  At the moment, Clark had a destiny to embrace, and once he got started he didn’t want to stop.

Talking was highly over-rated anyway.

Lex made a move Clark didn’t know vertebrates could make and slithered down beneath him like a snake until he had Clark’s cock in his mouth.  At the touch of Lex’s lips curling around the shaft, Clark was pretty sure his head was going to explode.  When Lex dipped his tongue beneath the foreskin and swirled it around, Clark whined uncontrollably.  Then Lex chuckled at the same time he took Clark’s whole cock down his throat, and that was it.

He’d never come so hard in his life.  If he could get nosebleeds without first being struck by lightning, he would have.  In fact, it felt an awful lot like being struck by lightning.  Only more fun.  And he recovered faster.

When he’d caught his breath, it was Clark’s turn to do some exploring.  Lex’s mouth tasted different, coated with Clark’s come, and Clark took his time cleaning up before he roamed down the length of Lex’s body.  The milky skin looked good with the blood up under it, and the noises Lex made as he moved beneath Clark’s mouth and hands got Clark hard again before he made it past Lex’s ribcage.  Clark manfully ignored his own erection and zeroed in on Lex’s.

The first taste of Lex’s cock on his tongue made Clark hungrier than he’d ever been.  He licked and swallowed and whimpered a little in sympathy when Lex screamed, but Clark was too busy drinking him down to do much more than pet Lex’s ass and stroke his trembling thighs.  Crawling back up Lex’s body, laying little sucking kisses all along the way, he had to grin when he saw the literally-blown expression on Lex’s face.

It was a good look for him.  One Clark fully intended to put there as often as possible.  Clark lay propped up on one elbow looking down at Lex, and beamed like an idiot.  He could feel it, but he couldn’t do a damned thing about it, and he didn’t want to.  It felt too good to stop.

Lex opened dazed eyes and grinned back at him for a moment before glancing down at Clark’s cock, dragging across his thigh, leaking on his skin.  “Was there something you wanted, Clark?” he asked.  His voice was even sexier than normal, kind of husky and broken, and Clark felt his cock jump.

Lex felt it too.

His grin turned what could only be called evil, and Clark was blinded by it.  He was taken by surprise when a long, lean leg wrapped itself around his waist and he found himself hauled over to lie flat on top of Lex.

Or almost flat.

Lex reached down into the cramped space between them and wrapped his hand around Clark’s cock.  Clark gave another whimper, and was still trying to find the words to ask Lex what he was going to do when Lex did it.

He pulled Clark down, pulled himself up, and worked Clark’s cock deep into himself.

The process took some time, what with Clark frozen in shock at the realization that he was fucking Lex and Lex going slow to give himself time to accommodate Clark’s bulk.  They were both moaning, and Clark was way too close to coming, by the time it dawned on Clark that he wasn’t fucking Lex so much as Lex was fucking himself on Clark.

That thought was all it took.  Higher reasoning, what was left of it anyway, disappeared completely as Clark’s hips starting moving all on their own.  Lex’s head dropped back, his other leg came up to wrap around the other side of Clark’s waist, and he pushed with his heels against Clark’s ass as if trying to pull Clark completely inside him.  Clark pushed his upper body off Lex’s chest and stared down at him, panting, watching as Lex lost himself.

Losing himself in turn.

When Clark came the second time, he thought Lex might have, too, but by then he couldn’t tell where he ended and Lex began.  Clark curled his body as far around Lex as he could get and held him, listening as their hearts slowed down, feeling his cock slip out of Lex’s body, tasting the warm salt of Lex’s skin beneath his tongue.

He never wanted to move again.

Eventually, Lex shifted against him, then laughed, his breath tickling Clark’s throat.  His arms tightened around Clark, who found himself grinning without knowing why.

“What?” he finally asked.  His voice sounded scratchy, lower than usual, and it must have had the same effect on Lex that Lex’s had on him, from the way Lex shivered.  The laugh choked off.

“Just thinking.”  And enjoying it, from the sound of it.

“’Bout what?”  Clark slowly stroked Lex’s back, loving the feel of the relaxed muscles under his hands.

“If this is my reward for being destiny’s whore, I’ll roll over and take it after all.”  He was laughing again.  “With pleasure.”

Clark’s response was sweet.  For both of them.

 

The dusk light coming through the thin cracks in the roof of the cave cast shadows over the wall.  A silvery wolf sat on his haunches, staring up at the central painting in the cave.

As the dark eyes watched, the rock shifted once more, then stilled.  Where once there had been two heads, now there was one.  Blood and sky together.  Good and evil, balance in each.  A blending from what had once been a battle.  The wolf closed his eyes.  Raised his head.

And howled.

Destiny would never be the same again.

END

A Hairy Exchange:

"I don't know how to tell my father."

"Tell him what, Lex?"

"He's sired a werewolf."

Pause, as Clark gives Lex the fish-eyed look then a lopsided grin. "There's no such thing as werewolves, Lex."

"Yeah, like there's no such thing as aliens, Clark."

Another pause, as Lex stares calmly at Clark, who turns dead white, then bright red.

"So," Clark finally says as nonchalantly as possible, "how are you going to break the news to Lionel?"

"Oh, I was thinking maybe ... of getting Lucas a collar."

"He can't have mine!" (yelped)

Another long pause, as Clark turns red enough to spontaneously combust.

"Something ELSE you want to tell me, Clark?"

...end (with apologies to Wolf Lake)

 


End file.
